What Does John Love?
by sherlockian4evr
Summary: A series of short little vignettes detailing the things John loves about Sherlock. Inspired by Minutiae (Or 156 Things I Know About You) by AtlinMerrick. I could never write as brilliantly as the amazing AtlinMerrick whose stories have both brought tears to my eyes and made me laugh so hard that I had to change my panties. (Thank you for that!)
1. Chapter 1

John loves Sherlock's wit. That's always been true, even in the old days when Sherlock's wit was often cutting and cruel. Now It's softened a bit, is more friendly and gentle and appears more often, to John's delight.

John loves Sherlock's hands. He loves them when they're folded beneath Sherlock's chin when he's lost in thought, when they're performing an impossibly delicate experiment, when they're playing the violin and definitely when they're playing John.

John loves Sherlock's smile. Not his fake smile that he offers the press, not his sardonic smile or his bemused smile, but the smile that he saves solely for John. The smile that says "It's always you" and "You're amazing" and "I love you".

John loves that Sherlock tries. To the outside world, it appears as though Sherlock only does the things that come easy to him: playing the violin, making amazing deductions and solving crime after crime, but John sees it when Sherlock tries. He sees it when Sherlock tries to make him smile, when he tries to make him laugh and when he tries to make him happy. Well, okay, maybe those things are easy too, but John also sees it when Sherlock tries to be a bit more kind, a bit more understanding of those around him. It doesn't happen often, anymore, but John sees it when Sherlock tries to ignore the call of a seven percent solution and succeeds every time.

John loves that Sherlock is dramatic. He loves how every eye in the room is drawn to Sherlock's tall, mysterious form. He loves the upturned collar and the glimpse of a sharp cheek bone. He loves the whooshing sound of the Belstaff as Sherlock whirls and whirls and whirls, a dervish of activity at crime scenes.

John loves Sherlock's... um, yes, that. He loves its firm heat in his hand. He loves its smooth glide over his belly or thigh. He loves the weight of it in his mouth and he loves it when it's pounding into him and hitting "Oh, God, yes! That's the spot."

John loves Sherlock's mind. It's a fact made obvious by John's regular pronouncements of "Amazing ", "Incredible" and "Brilliant" at Sherlock's leaps in logic. It's a fact so obvious that even Anderson should be able to deduce it with little effort.

John loves Sherlock's bottom lip. It's pink and plush and soft and pops out in a pout far too often for a man in his thirties. When it does, John sidles over and sucks that pouty lip into his mouth and nibbles on it until it turns up in a smile.

John loves Sherlock's arse. He loves peering at it when he's bent over at crime scenes, searching for clues, or when he's stretched out tall, retrieving something from the top shelf of a kitchen pantry. John loves the shape of it and how it feels against his body when they're... That. John loves that.

John loves Sherlock's laugh. There aren't many people who have heard it and that's a shame. It's a warm laugh, rich and deep and bubbles up from deep inside Sherlock's chest. It's infectious and John can never resist joining his own golden laugh to Sherlock's until they're bent over wiping tears of mirth from their eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

John loves Sherlock's what-colour-is-it hair. Most of the time, it appears to be a rich, dark brown, but sometimes, when the sun catches it just right, Sherlock's bouncing, wayward curls shine with a hint of auburn. When that happens, John can never resist simply reaching out and touching those glowing locks.

John loves when Sherlock tells him about crimes he solved before they knew each other. There's never pride there, not at all. Rather, there's a quiet wistfulness, just a hint of regret that Holmes did not yet know his Watson. John listens and smiles and offers the 'amazings' that he wasn't there to give at the time.

John loves Sherlock's enthusiasm. Be it bees, murders or... Well, yeah ... That. Sherlock dives into his joy and rolls in it like Redbeard in wet grass. John stands back and watches in awe.

John loves Sherlock's voice. God! That voice. It's rich and warm. It's soft and velvety. It's rich, dark chocolate poured over strawberries. A whispered "John" in that voice... Well, it's good that Sherlock is enthusiastic.

John loves when Sherlock plays the violin. That's 'plays', not 'tortures'. Watching Sherlock play is just as wonderful as listening to him. Sherlock sways to the lovely strains of music that he, himself creates.

John loves Sherlock's what-colour-are-they eyes. When first he had drawn close enough to Sherlock to see the colour of his eyes, they had been a glittering silver-grey. When next he glimpsed them, they had been a bright sea-green. In the dark of their bedroom, on that very first memorable night, Sherlock's eyes had shown a bright blue that drew John into their soulful depths.

John loves Sherlock's dressing gowns. Yes, those sometimes silky, sometimes satiny and always ridiculously posh dressing gowns. It doesn't matter that Sherlock throws them on over tatty T-shirts and equally tatty pyjama bottoms. The point is that Sherlock gesticulates with a sash and whirls in his excitement, causing his dressing gown to billow out behind him, a proxy for his beloved and dramatic Belstaff.

John loves Sherlock's bespoke suits... And that ridiculousy sexy purple shirt. John will bitch and moan until the end of their days at their sheer expense. What he will never say is that he enjoys the way Sherlock's trousers cling to his lovely bum, him jacket outlines his long torso and his shirts strain over his sculpted chest. What he will say is that he delights in removing all of the aforementioned clothing one article at a time.

John loves Sherlock's toes. Those long, ridiculous, prehensile toes. Sherlock can pick up a Biro with his toes. He can pass it back and forth from foot to foot. He can twirl it, which is absolutely disturbing. Sherlock kneads his toes against the arm of the sofa like a kitten and sometimes... he purrs.

John loves when Sherlock dances. Sometimes they clear the furniture and clutter from the centre of the room and Sherlock sways. He twirls. He dips and jumps. John watches, mesmerised, for a time, then he joins in. They hold each other close and somewhere in that closeness, they silently say those things that they can't say in any other way.


	3. Chapter 3

John loves Sherlock's ridiculous sock index. Rather, he loves messing with it. When he's in a mischievous mood, he goes in and swaps two pairs then times how long it takes his love to notice. Once, it took over three days, but seeing as they had been kidnapped and held hostage most of that time, John reckons it doesn't count.

John loves Sherlock's ridiculous yellow goggles, the ones he wears while he's blowing things up in the kitchen. Every time he sees the detective wearing them, it's all he can do not to break down in a fit of giggles. Especially when Sherlock shifts them up onto his forehead and his mad curls stick out around them. It makes John think of Doctor Emmett Brown from the Back to the Future movies he loved in his youth.

John loves that Sherlock leaves him notes. He leaves them in copious amounts. There are sticky notes everywhere. **Get milk. Need lye. Love you. Don't disturb eyeball on mantle. Waiting in bedroom.** Yes, John loves those notes. He saves each and every one.

John loves watching films with Sherlock. The detective makes fun of most movies they watch, driving John absolutely mad (actually, he secretly loves it). There are a few that he watches in relative silence, The Hobbit Trilogy, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and a television series called Fargo. When John asks him why, Sherlock shrugs and comments that the acting is especially good. John thinks the detective has a crush on one of the actors.

John loves the crinkle that Sherlock's nose gets when he thinks. It appears _right there_ , between his eyes. It's the cutest thing. It appears when he's puzzled or confused. It appears when John has done something that he can't fathom. It appears when he's trying to decide what he wants to do to the doctor next.

John loves the way Sherlock teases Greg, calling him Gavin, Geoff, or whatever name pops to mind. He knows he shouldn't enjoy it, but he does. Every time the detective does it, John has to hide his laugh with a cough. John thinks, secretly, that Sherlock would have given it up long ago if it weren't for those coughs. He wonders if Greg knows.

John loves watching Sherlock eat candy floss. The madman invariably gets it everywhere: in his hair, on his cheek, in his eyebrows, on the tip of his nose. He pouts and whinges at John to get it off of him, holding up his sticky fingers. The doctor always pulls him into a hidden corner and obliges.

John loves Sherlock's depth of love for him. No, he's amazed by it. He's completely awed. Every morning, he wakes up and sees love in the detective's eyes and it's aimed at him, he sees it in Sherlock's face all day, and it's there as he kisses him to sleep at night.

John loves Sherlock's elegant handwriting. It's in direct contrast to his own doctorly scrawl. The detective's handwriting is filled with elegant loops and whirls, points and dips. It looks like something from two centuries ago when people took pride in their penmanship. Besides the little notes that Sherlock leaves for him, John thinks the detective's own name is the most beautiful thing he writes of all.

John loves Sherlock's lisp. Once when Sherlock was pissed, John had put on a nature special on the telly. The detective had been sitting upside down in his chair and had said, "Look at the thebra. Ithn't it pretty, John? I like thebrath tho much." That's how John found out about it. It doesn't make an appearance often, only when he's tired or pissed or they've been busy having... you know. It's adorable and makes the doctor want to kiss him every time.


End file.
